Cockroach

The growl that came from its throat wasn't just a sound; it was a warning, a deep rumbling that echoed off the cave walls and reverberated through my chest. My father's words echoed in my mind—"Don't die." He wasn't joking. This was a test, another step in his relentless training. He had thrown me into this cave, knowing full well that one wrong move would mean death.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to steady. Panic wouldn't help me now. I had been trained for this. Yuujiro wouldn't have tossed me in here if he thought I wasn't ready. This was part of my training—another challenge designed to push me past my limits.

But still, fear gnawed at the edges of my mind. The bear's eyes locked on me, glowing with primal fury and hunger. It knew I was here, and it didn't see me as a challenger. I was prey.

There was no time to think. Do or die.

I charged, pushing myself to use everything I'd learned. The Cockroach Dash. It was a technique I'd been perfecting over the past months, one of the many that Baki Hanma had used to surprise even Yuujiro in their battle. I wasn't nearly as fast or strong as the Baki from that moment, but my body—his body—was capable of so much more than I had ever imagined. I'd been saving this move to surprise Yuujiro in training.

I dropped into a liquid-like state, my muscles relaxing completely as I'd practiced so many times. Then, in an instant, I snapped back together, pushing off the ground with explosive acceleration. In 0.01 milliseconds, I had reached my top speed of 190 km/h—faster than anything I had done before. The bear didn't know what hit it.

I collided with its massive body like a human cannonball, driving into its stomach with everything I had. The impact sent the bear hurtling backward, crashing into the wall of the cave with a deafening thud, dust and stone raining down from the ceiling. I didn't hesitate. Before the bear could recover, I launched into the air, bringing my leg down in a vicious axe kick aimed at its head.

CRACK. The kick connected with brutal force, driving the beast's massive head into the ground. It let out a furious roar, shaking off the disorientation as it staggered back to its feet. I could see the confusion and anger in its glowing eyes as it turned toward me, enraged. I had hurt it.

But it wasn't done.

With a roar that sent a shiver down my spine, the bear swiped at me with one of its massive paws. The speed of the attack surprised me, but I ducked just in time, feeling the rush of air as the claws sliced through the space where my head had been a split second ago. One hit from those claws would end me. I couldn't afford to take a single blow.

I didn't stop moving. My body was a weapon, and I was going to use everything at my disposal. Twisting my ear, I activated the skill I had —Endorphin Release. I felt the rush immediately, my body flooding with endorphins as I twisted my ear, the pain fading into the background. This was a technique Baki had used during his grueling training, a way to push past the pain, to become more resilient in the face of overwhelming force, And i had learnt it.

The bear lunged at me again, but this time I was faster. The endorphins coursing through my veins make my movements sharper, quicker. I ducked under another swipe, my muscles loose and fluid as I slid between its legs, aiming another powerful kick to its side. I felt the impact ripple through the bear's body, but it wasn't enough to stop it. The beast was relentless.

I darted back, trying to buy myself some space, my mind racing. How do you kill something this big? The raw power of the Cockroach Dash had worked for a moment, but I wasn't fast enough to take it down completely. And the longer the fight dragged on, the more chances I gave it to hit me. I had to end this soon.

The bear turned, its glowing eyes locking on me again, and I knew I didn't have much time. I needed to exploit its size. I couldn't overpower it, but I could outmaneuver it.

As the bear charged once more, I didn't run. I ran toward it. My mind raced as the massive creature barreled toward me, each of its powerful strides shaking the ground beneath us. I knew I couldn't rely on brute strength to defeat something this large, not yet. My only chance was to use its size and momentum against it.

With a burst of energy, propelling myself forward at blinding speed. The air around me seemed to warp as I closed the distance between us in an instant. Everything slowed down. In that split second, I saw my opening—the bear's forward momentum was all I needed to turn its power against it. Aiki.

Aiki wasn't just about defending yourself—it was about blending with the attack, becoming part of the movement to turn your opponent's force into your own advantage. I had learned it from Gouki Shibukawa, the master who could take on opponents far stronger and larger than himself using minimal effort. It was a technique that required timing, precision, and the ability to feel the rhythm of your opponent's movements.

As the bear lunged, I shifted my weight at the last second, dodging to the side just as its massive paw swiped through the space where I had been. My body moved fluidly, seamlessly blending with the bear's attack. I could feel its energy, its raw, primal force, and I redirected it without clashing. Blending without resistance. The bear's own momentum became its downfall as I twisted, using its forward charge to send it crashing into the cave wall.

The impact was brutal. The bear's enormous body collided with the rock, sending cracks splintering through the stone. Dust and debris rained down, and the beast let out a thunderous roar, dazed and disoriented by the force of its own charge. For a moment, the cave seemed to tremble under the sheer weight of the creature's fall.

But I couldn't stop. This was my chance.

Before the bear could recover, I leaped onto its back, grabbing hold of its thick, matted fur. I had to end this now. The bear roared in fury, thrashing beneath me as it tried to throw me off, but I held on with everything I had, wrapping my legs tightly around its neck.

My mind raced, thinking back to everything I had learned about Aiki. It wasn't just about blending with your opponent's movements—it was about control. To master Aiki, you had to dominate the attacker's intent, to manipulate the very energy they used against you. This bear was all raw power, all brute strength. But it lacked the precision I had been trained to develop. That was my edge.

Twisting and pulling with every ounce of strength, I tightened my grip around its neck, using my legs to lock myself in place. The bear's massive paws flailed wildly, trying to reach me, but its size made it slow, and its thrashing only served to wear it down. I felt its muscles strain under my grip, the rough fur slick with sweat and dirt.

But I knew this wouldn't be enough. This wasn't some human opponent I could outmaneuver with a simple Aiki technique. This was a monster. It wasn't going to go down easily, and the longer the fight went on, the more dangerous it became. One wrong move, and those claws would rip me apart.

I had to push harder.

The bear let out a furious roar and, with shocking agility for its size, it reared up and leaped backward. For a split second, I felt weightless as the bear twisted its massive body in mid-air, trying to shake me off. Its plan was clear—if I didn't let go, I'd be crushed beneath its bulk as it slammed into the ground. I had no choice.

I released my grip and leaped away just before it crashed down, landing hard on my feet and rolling to the side. My heart was pounding in my chest. That was close—too close. I couldn't afford another mistake like that. Wrestling with this beast was a death wish, and the Cockroach Dash and endorphin release were taking their toll on my body. I needed a plan—something that could give me a real chance at taking this thing down.

Ippon Ken.

The extended knuckle strike. It was a technique from karate, one designed to hit specific weak points with devastating accuracy. I had been practicing it, perfecting the ability to deliver a precise, targeted blow with the extended knuckle of my middle finger. If I could land a solid hit to one of the bear's vulnerable spots—its throat, its groin, maybe even its eyes—I could turn the tide of this fight.

But it wasn't going to be easy. The bear's eyes were too far apart, and its body was built like a fortress of muscle and fur. Its defenses were overwhelming. I didn't have the size or the strength to overpower it, and a direct strike to its eyes seemed impossible from my angle.

As I dodged another wild swipe from its massive claws, I saw my chance. The ground beneath me was scattered with loose stones from the cave's walls—perfect for a distraction. If I could create an opening, just for a split second, I could strike where it was weakest.

The bear roared again, lunging at me with terrifying speed. I jumped back, barely avoiding its claws as they slashed through the air. The force of its attack sent a gust of wind across my face, and I knew I didn't have long before it recovered. I had to act now.

I kicked a handful of loose stones into the air, aiming for its face. The rocks scattered in all directions, some striking its snout and eyes. It growled in anger, shaking its head as the debris momentarily blinded it. This was my chance.

With the bear distracted, I launched myself forward, using the Cockroach Dash to propel me toward its side. My heart pounded as I closed the distance, my body a blur of motion. I extended my knuckle, targeting the soft flesh of its neck. If I could land a perfect Ippon Ken strike, it would be enough to stun the beast—maybe even cripple it.

Impact. My knuckle drove into its neck with all the force I could muster, the sharp point of the Ippon Ken technique focusing all my strength into a single, devastating blow. The bear let out a strangled roar, its body recoiling from the strike. I felt the shock of the impact reverberate through my arm, but I didn't stop. I twisted, following through with another strike—this time to its throat, aiming to cut off its air.

The bear staggered. it looked vulnerable, its massive body swaying as it tried to recover. Blood dripped from its maw, its breath coming in ragged gasps as it struggled to regain its footing.

But it wasn't down yet. Not even close.

The bear let out a roar of pure rage, its massive paw swiping at me with renewed ferocity. I barely had time to react, throwing myself to the side as the claws grazed my arm. The pain shot through me, but I couldn't afford to stop. I had to keep moving.

It lunged again, its powerful body crashing toward me like a living avalanche. I dodged to the side, but I could feel my energy draining. The Cockroach Dash and endorphin release were pushing me to my limits. I was fast—but not fast enough.

The bear's claws grazed the edge of my leg, and pain exploded through my calf. I stumbled, nearly falling as my muscles screamed in protest. I was exhausted, pushed to the brink, but I couldn't afford to stop. Not now. Not when survival was on the line. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself back to my feet, ignoring the burning sensation in my leg.

This was it. One last move—one last chance.

I could feel the bear's presence looming over me, its eyes burning with feral rage, its breath hot and heavy. Death was close. And then, I felt it—a strange, familiar sensation coursing through me. My vision sharpened, and time seemed to slow. Death Concentration.

Yuujiro had taught me about this. The ability to control death. It was a skill that could only be achieved in the most dangerous moments—the moments when you were about to die. If you could control those moments, control the fear, control the body's reflexes, you could seize power over life and death itself. That was where true strength lay.

I had felt it before— when I Fight Yuujiro. 

Everything became sharper. My body was lighter, faster. My senses were heightened, my reflexes amplified beyond anything I had felt before. Every heartbeat, every breath was under my control. The bear's movements were almost slow now, its charging form lumbering toward me like a force of nature, but I saw it for what it was—a predictable force that I could manipulate.

I needed to hit its neck. It was a high-risk move, but if I could land a direct Ippon Ken strike there again, I might be able to take it down for good. I could feel my extended knuckle itching to connect—to end this.

The bear roared, and its massive body charged at me again, those glowing eyes locked on me with murderous intent. But this time, I was ready. I wasn't just surviving anymore—I was controlling the battle.

I feinted to the left, drawing its attack, the beast's massive paw slicing through the air with terrifying force. But I was already moving. At the last second, I spun to the right, jumping onto its arm, using its own momentum to throw it off balance. The bear stumbled, its footing unstable, and that was all I needed.

With its balance thrown off, I lunged forward, my body moving on instinct, fueled by the power of Death Concentration. I extended my knuckle, the Ippon Ken strike aimed with pinpoint precision at the beast's neck. My knuckle drove deep into the soft flesh, the force of the blow amplified by everything I had left in me.

The impact was brutal. The bear let out a horrific, ear-splitting sound—a mixture of pain and fury. I could feel the shock of the strike reverberate through my arm, the sensation almost numbing, but I didn't stop. The beast staggered, its legs buckling beneath it as the force of the blow sent it reeling backward.

This was my moment.

The bear collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, its body trembling as it gasped for air. Blood oozed from its wounds, its massive form heaving with labored breaths as it lay there, helpless. I stood over it, breathing heavily, my body shaking from exhaustion but still standing.

The fight was over.

I had done it.